Makka na Ito
by SnowFallsSilverOnRoute37
Summary: GerIta feels ;-;


**I'm sorry for my monotonousness as pairings go, I just really love GerxIta! Based on the feelsiest video a GerxIta shipper will ever come across: ** watch?v=vIdebsjD6...

**All I can say... "Lay down. Try not to cry. Cry a lot."**

**37.**

* * *

_"Dude! Dude! You've gotta see what I found!" A man in a brown fur-lined bomber jacket burst through the doors of the meeting room, waving a small book, bound neatly in grey fabric, with a black leather spine._

_His entrance was met with mingled "hm?"s as his companions turned towards him._

_The man grandly continued; "It's Germany's secret military journal!" So it was, judging by the words printed on the cover._

_"That's incredible, America!" One of the man's companions had spoken up- one with an English-tinted voice and querying green eyes._

_"This would give us a clear advantage over them." A third speaker added, tossing his shoulder-length blond hair back over one shoulder._

_"Let me see!" A fourth demanded, brown eyes twinkling with anticipation._

_"Oh…" The fifth simply sat back and smiled, making a small noise of awe. "Sounds fun."_

_They all pored over the lined pages, each mentally skimming over the entries at his own pace._

_**'Dear Diary,**_

_**Today, Italy told me that he'd cook something for me.'**_

_They stopped to envision the scene; an overly upbeat Italian busying himself with a meal, trying his hardest not to notice the German neurotically scrubbing the countertop next to him. It was interesting, but it wouldn't win them any wars._

_They flipped through to the next page;_

_**'Dear Diary,**_

_**Today, Italy was attacked by Britain and France while I was out.'**_

_There was a considerably more exasperated tone to this entry, as if it had happened many times before. Which, of course, it had._

_Still no help though- this was no news._

_**'Dear Diary,**_

_**Today Italy tried to launch an attack on Egypt… all by himself.'**_

_The five exchanged amused looks. This couldn't have ended well. This entry was longer than its predecessors, though, and it continued;_

_**'Like feeding a stray dog, after that, every time Italy was in trouble I had to run to his rescue.'**_

_It seemed like he had been talking to himself while writing this, and was planning to...call somebody?_

_**'Who on Earth can I call?'**_

_At this point, all of the room's occupants were looking at each other awkwardly, unsure of what to say- that is, except the one who had suggested reading the journal 'sounded like fun'. He smiled at the little book._

_**'Italy's the only friend I've got… and I can't tell what Japan is thinking…'**_

_The fellowship stood, and the smile had been wiped off the fifth man's face._

_They said- in unison, with a carbon-copied hesitant tone to their voices; "His only… friend?"_

_Taking pity on the journal's owner- the stoic, angry Germany- they left it be and didn't bring it up again, between the five of them._

_Perhaps it was for the best that they didn't check the next page…_

* * *

**'Dear Diary,**

**I think there's something wrong with Italy. Not that that's news, but there's something else wrong with him. Besides all of those tomatoes… Sometimes, he'll wake up in the morning, even before I do, and I'll wake up to his profuse sobbing. As soon as he notices I'm up, he'll begin crying even more, holding on to me as if he was worried I would disappear. Such ridiculousness. I'm a strong nation, I won't go anywhere.**

**On such occasions, he usually mutters things to himself in Italian for at least five minutes before he starts to form coherent sentences. Even then I have trouble understanding him. Something about a 'red thread'? 'Holy Rome'?**

**Finally, he will simply rest his head on my chest and whisper over and over; "Germany won't leave me, right? Germany will stay here and paint and play with me forever…"**

**More often than not, I have to assure him several times that I will be there for him when he needs me, that he needn't worry… it's funny, I thought he took such things for granted.**

**I asked Austria- Italy's former caretaker- about it a few days ago. Whether or not he had heard the name 'Holy Rome'.**

**I was surprised by his answer, that when Italy was Austria's maid, a little boy came to visit very often, painting pictures with him and helping out around the house.**

**What shocked me most, however, were his next words. "You know, this Holy Rome child looked just like you."'**


End file.
